


A Year Abroad

by Chocolataulait



Category: DCU, DCU (Comics), Gotham City Sirens (Comics)
Genre: F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2021-01-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:21:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28340808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chocolataulait/pseuds/Chocolataulait
Summary: Harley is spending a gap year in Paris working as an au pair for a rich French family. Living in Europe is not what she had expected and she is having a little trouble adjusting to her new life in France. Her world flips around when she meets her employer's alluring friend.''Harley slid into her red faux-fur coat and walked out of the apartment. She stopped by a bakery and ordered the butteriest "pain au chocolat" she had ever had the chance to eat. She sat down on a bench by a tree and let it melt into her mouth, trying to ignore the smell of dog poop that had been stuck to her shoes for the past two days.She put her earphones on and blasted an Édith Piaf playlist with the hopes that it would remind her of how lucky she was to be in Europe, living in a luxurious apartment, while all of her friends were stuck by home.''
Relationships: Diana (Wonder Woman)/Selina Kyle, Pamela Isley/Harleen Quinzel
Comments: 24
Kudos: 53





	1. Sick

Harley picked up the pair of dirty underwear she had dropped on the floor and threw it in the washing machine. She followed by emptying the basket of dirty laundry she had been holding against her hip.

When Harley applied to spend her gap year as an au pair for a family in Paris, she had pictured her lifestyle to be much more glamorous than what it turned out to be.

"Harleeeey!" She heard madame Kyle’s voice calling her from the other end of the hallway, the distance and her incontestably thick French accent making the rest of her sentence barely intelligible.

Harley quickly started her cycle and rushed through the hallway, her golden lock flying gracelessly out of the tight bun she had tried to coif earlier that morning. She ran her hands over the fabric of the simple marine dress she had bought the previous week with her small allowance. She felt elegant in her European garbs. They were nothing like what she wore back home.

She walked into the living room to find madame Kyle sitting by the window, reading a newspaper with a cappuccino in hand. The beautiful woman was wearing a casual Chanel ensemble. Her fragrance of choice was Dior, and she had a pair of Dolce Gabbana sunglasses perched on her freshly done wedge haircut. The way she draped her right leg over her left was of an almost catlike elegance. She looked beautiful in a way that Harley new was unattainable for a woman of a background as simple as hers.

She blushed, thinking of how proud she had felt when she had looked at herself in the glass earlier. She had made an Instagram post of her dress; certain she would impress all of her friends back home. They had all gone off to college straight after high school and she kind of hoped they were a little envious of her adventurous aupair lifestyle.

She felt a little naïve now that she was standing in front of her worldly employer. Madame Kyle did not mind her in anyway. She read her newspaper with avid attention. The manicured nails of her right hand were drumming against the table, right by her phone. The motion only stopping from to time when the mistress of the house would flip her phone to send a message or two to, Harley assumed, one of her many alluring friends.

Harley cleared her throat, hoping to get Madame Kyle’s attention.

"Madame?"

The elegant raven-haired beauty raised her eyes from her phone. She finally flipped around-albeit a little reluctantly, her hair following her motion with seemingly effortless grace. She brought her hand to her chin and propped her elbow against the table, her burgundy painted lips twisting into a pout.

"What can I do for you?"

Harley twisted both of her ankles inward, trying to hide her discomfort but failing miserably.

"Uhm, I didn’t hear you earlier. What d’you say?"

Madame Kyle’s long lashes fluttered. She reached for her cappuccino cup and pressed it against her full bottom lip. She took a little sip of it before answering, her hand unconsciously reaching for her phone. Her eyes shifting to the screen almost immediately.

"Persephone’ school called earlier. She is sick. Could you go pick her up?"

"Sure, can do!" Harley raised two thumbs up, but her employer’s attention was back at typing messages on her phone.

Persephone was the little girl Harley was paid to babysit everyday. She was madame Kyle’s stepchild. Her partner was a businesswoman a few years her elder. Madame Prince had once been married, but the poor woman had lost her husband to a tragic car accident a few days after giving birth to her child. It was an event the family rarely talked about, but that they did not bother hiding either.

It was unclear how the two women had met, but their relationship was not older than a year or two. The two women seemed madly in love, but madame Prince had a remarkably busy schedule and was often on business trips. While she never dared stating it out loud, Harley was fairly certain that Madame Kyle often felt dejected and lonely.

Persephone was often left to work on her never-ending list of schoolwork on her own. Now that Harley had been added to the small family, she dedicated most of her work time to helping the young girl with her homework to the limits of her capacity, her level of French being a little subpar.

Harley grabbed the keys to her newly acquired scooter. She threw opened a door and threw one last glance over her shoulder. Madame Kyle was now on the phone, speaking in French with a friend she seemed to often call.

"Pamela, je pensais à toi justement! Je suis allée voir une pièce hier et je suis persuadée que tu l’aurais adorée"

Harley had never met Pamela, but she had gathered by now that she was a renown scientist with a massive fortune and an impressive resume.

"Bah, tu connais Diana. Elle est à Berlin. Elle devrait être de retour d’ici deux jours."

Madame Kyle turned a dreamy gaze out the window and brought her coffee cup up to her mouth.

"Raconte-moi tout et n’épargne aucun détail!"

"See you later!" the small au pair tried to make her exit known, but her employer dismissed her with a hand wave.

Harley slid into her red faux-fur coat and walked out of the apartment. She stopped by a bakery and ordered the butteriest "pain au chocolat" she had ever had the chance to eat. She sat down on a bench by a tree and let it melt into her mouth, trying to ignore the smell of dog poop that had been stuck to her shoes for the past two days.

She put her earphones on and blasted an Édith Piaf playlist with the hopes that it would remind her of how lucky she was to be in Europe, living in a luxurious apartment, while all of her friends were stuck by home.

She rushed through the streets on her scooter, following the instructions on her google map. Even after her a month, she still managed to get lost on a regular basis. The streets in France seemed to be organized in triangles, circles, and in cul-de-sacs instead of simple rectangle patterns like back home.

She felt a bit late when she walked into Persephone’s little school. Her bun was now falling limply against the nape of her neck. Her golden locks were scattered all over her shoulders. Her mind kept on racing back to the smell of dog poop she could not get rid of and her dress was damp with sweat right bellow her armpit and along her lower spine.

Her feet scuffing against the wooden floor was the only sound she could hear. Children sitting at desks would sometimes take peeks in her direction when she would walk by their classroom. A sense of relief washed over her when she found the nurse’s office. Persephone was there lying in a bed, looking pale. Her bright blue eyes were fixed on the ceiling and her usually carefully coiffed dark curls were splayed all over a flat pillow.

Harley took a deep breath and walked up to the nurse.

"Je suis le au pair de Persephone. Je viens chercher…"

The nurse stared at her with clear annoyance. She smacked the tip of her pen against the table a few times and heaved a sigh.

"Pardon?"

Harley clenched her fist and opened her mouth to answer, but Persephone was quick to interfere.

"Ma mère est à Berlin. Cette fille est notre au pair. Elle va me reconduire chez moi."

The child flipped around and settled in a sitting position. Persephone was unusually tall for eight years old and, while she was not voluble nor very sociable, there was something imposing about her presence.

She exchanged a few more words with the nurse, slung her schoolbag over her shoulder, and walked through the door without sparing a glance in her au pair’s direction. Harley stuffed both of her hands in her red faux-fur coat and followed suit.

"How’s your day?" She asked Persephone, desperate to initiate a conversation.

The schoolgirl flinched a little.

"I am sick." She stated, elongating every syllable. She gave Harley an unimpressed stare.

"Oh, yeah, right."

When they walked outside, a wild wind was rushing through the leaves of the courtyard’s trees. Persephone grimaced and took a deep breath, looking a little nauseous.

"I am parked right in front. We are almost there."

Harley fumbled through her pockets, looking for the key to her scooter. Persephone sat on the passenger seat and waited patiently.

As they drove back to the apartment, Persephone wrapped both of her arms around Harley’s waist. It was an atypical behavior for the young girl as she often avoided physical contact and rarely sought comfort in others. Harley assumed it was due to her father’s death and her mother’s absence. Madame Kyle was not the most demonstrative individual either. It was thus likely that the child had spent most of her life with close to no adults in her surrounding to bond with."

"Give me your bag."

Persephone hesitated, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of being aided. Harley reached forward and grabbed one of the two front straps.

"Come on," the au pair insisted. "You are sick. Let me take care of you a little!"

Persephone nodded, the rigid muscles of her body relaxing a little. She slid her bag off of her shoulders and handed it to the blonde. Harley grabbed it by the handle, surprised by how heavy it was.

They walked up the stairs in silence. Harley had to slow her pace to follow child’s slow climbing, trying to both comfort her with her presence and leave her space to breathe.

The sound of Madame Kyle’s laughter could be heard from the hallway. Harley glanced at Persephone. The schoolgirl had propped herself against the wall and was pressing her lips firmly together. Her icy blue eyes widened before shutting closed.

"We are home!" Harley announced, barging into the apartment with flair. Her comment was drowned by the loud classical music that was playing throughout the apartment.

Harley walked through the rooms to find madame Kyle sitting on a couch, glass of wine in hand. She was sporting a face-splitting grin and tears of laughter were adorning her longs lashes. On the other end of the couch sat another elegant woman with a lustrous mane of red curls that flowed down her like shiny rivulets. Harley could not see her features from this angle, but her hourglass figure was as luscious as a perfectly ripe fruit.

"Let’s go to my room," Persephone growled with annoyance. "I don’t like her."

"Uhm, okay," mumbled Harley, feeling a little disappointed. She followed the young girl, guessing that she would eventually find a way to satisfy her curiosity.


	2. The Encounter

That afternoon, Harley sat at a café and drank a cappuccino while staring at passersby. She had braided her hair into two French braids and was wearing a pair of fake black rimmed glasses with the hopes that it would confer her an intellectual look. On her round table laid a Harlequin novel of which she very subtly tried to hide the cover.

It was a guilty pleasure she had developed in her early teenagerhood. Her father was a straight up asshole and Harley suspected him to be terrible in the sack. Her mother never had the guts to cheat on him and reverted to reading Harlequin novels to contain and satisfy her sexual cravings.

Harley had, of course, discovered her secret Harlequin stash. For the years that followed, she had found great pleasure in reading her mother’s books, both because she deeply enjoyed the trill of the forbidden and they helped her blossom into the sexual being she would eventually become. She still often found herself reaching for Harlequins when she felt sad or lonely which is how she had ended up sitting at a café with a cappuccino in one hand and a book in the other.

She would sometimes check her Instagram to count the likes on her last picture, a selfie of her sitting at this very café. A few guys at slid into her DM earlier that day to comment on a story she had posted. She had given polite responses to the majority of them and flirted with about two. She had been working on convincing one of them to send her a picture of his abs from the washroom of his workplace. She stopped once she realized how poorly he worked the lighting and had moved her attention back to her book.

"Mademoiselle," a man, sitting at the neighboring table interrupted her thoughts. He picked up a flower from one of the pots bordering the small terrasse. "Vous avez échappez ceci."

The man was older than her, possibly in his late twenties. His features were odd, unusually angular yet somewhat attractive. He had a magnetic smile and dark soul-searching eyes. There was something about him that screamed power and danger. The thought alone awoke every sense in her body.

"Je parle un peu français." She accepted the flower, putting it down on the table in front of her. "My French is not really good."

"You’re an American?" He asked, his smile growing impossibly wider. "I am too. I am a cinema student, doing a semester abroad. How about you?"

Harley felt small again. She reached for one of her braids and played with the tip, taking note of how the man gaze followed the motion with avid attention, lingering for far too long on her breast to be appropriate.

"Well, I am planning on getting into psych," she said, inhaling sharply. "But I am doing a year as an au pair for now."

"Uh-hen, psychology, interesting," he said, running a tongue over his lips. "I bet you must be a good at reading people. What am I thinking now?"

Harley stared down at the flower on the table. It was a beautiful single red rose. She ran her thumb over the stem, wincing when one of its thorns stabbed her finger. She felt undeniably excited, yet part of her wanted to run away.

"You are picturing me naked," she stated bluntly, lifting her chin to stare into his eyes with defiance.

He chuckled.

"You are an amusing girl," he replied, leaning close to her face. " Very funny, I like it."

Before she could reply or react, he quickly grabbed her phone. He entered his number and sent himself a message, giggling when his own device vibrated against the able.

"What are you doing?" Harley barked, grabbing her phone back.

"I have a class in a few minutes, and I wanted to get your number before leaving," he replied with a smirk. "You can’t be too sure with women nowadays. They tend to be deceitful."

He stood up and bowed with flourish. Harley remained frozen in place, feeling a tad bewildered. He reached for her hand and kissed it. The au pair cleared her throat, feeling her cheeks burn with heat. She watched him walk with a look of utter confusion.

A quick glance to her phone made her realize that it was getting late. If she wanted to pick a snack at home before picking Persephone up, she had to get going. She threw a few euros on the table and ran off to her scooter. She raced through the city, flipping off a few jaywalkers on the way.

She climbed up the stairs two by two, skipping her way up the building with childish grace. She was almost on the second to last level when a flurry of red curls invaded her vision and a curvy, yet surprisingly firm body slammed into hers. As the blonde wrapped her arms instinctively around the other woman’s waist, an intoxicating whiff of floral perfume caressed her nose.

"Cretina!" the woman hissed, grabbing one of Harley’s shoulders for balance.

Harley inhaled sharply.

The woman in her arms was a Jessica Rabbit type of beauty. She had a charming heart shaped face with sharp cheekbones and a lovely button nose. Her eyes were of a warm shade of green like a blossoming tree at the height of spring. Sparse freckles ornamented her cheeks and nose. Her full lips were of a sinful red and, as the woman parted her mouth to speak, they were the only thing Harley could look at.

"Regarde bien où tu mets les pieds," she growled with a sing-songing accent that the young au pair did not recognize as French.

Her breath was fruity, Harley noted, and her lashes were impossibly long.

“I don't-My French-" Harley stumbled over her words.

The woman pressed both of her palms against Harley’s upper chest and pushed herself backwards. Her luscious red lips twisted into a snarl.

“You are -come si dice," the woman huffed haughtily, running her hands down the fabric of her blouse to smoothen out a small crease. Her angry green eyes flew back to Harley’s when she managed to find her words. “You are an idiot!"

The woman pulled up her shoulder a Dior handbag and ran a hand through her cascade of red hair. She looked down at Harley as though she were a cockroach that could easily be squished under her high heel. She raised one of her perfectly sculpted eyebrows when she was met with the au pair's stunned silence.

She was halfway down the first flight of stairs when Harley recovered her voice.

“Ya know what, lady!" She shouted. She felt tears welling up her eyes, all the accumulated frustration from the past week spilling out of her with force. “You’re rude! And you’re the one who ran into me. It was you, not the other way around! You’re the idiot!"

The woman turned around, her perfect curls bouncing gracefully as though she were getting ready to pose for a shampoo add as opposed to fire back at the young blonde. She made her way up the stairs, the heels of her shoes stomping on every step with murderous rage.

She advanced on Harley like a lioness stalking a prey, her electric green stare filled with uncontrollable anger. She leaned over the younger woman, their nose almost touching. A strand of her long red hair brushed against the blonde’s forearm, a trail of goosebumps erupting in its suit.

“What did you just say to me?" she roared.

Harley swallowed hard. A mix of anger and excitement rushing through her veins. She leaned just a little closer, making sure that red haired ball of fury knew she could stand her ground. When she spoke again, they were so close she could feel the other woman’s breath caressing her mouth.

“You’re the idiot,” she repeated, elongating every syllable.

The older woman’s lips parted to show off a row of perfectly aligned pearly white teeth. The smile she gave Harley was anything but friendly.

“Nobody,” she said, the word coming out as a harsh threatening whisper. “Nobody talks to me like that."

Harley’s lower lip jutted out and her eyes widened in a comically childish manner.

“Now I know that ain’t true, pretty Red," she replied with a smirk and a giggle. “ 'cause I just did."

She twirled around and rushed up the stairs, making sure to win the argument with an early exit.

She twisted around once she climbed a few steps to flip the bird to the fiery redhead. She stuck her tongue out at her for good measure and ran it provokingly up her finger, sucking it all into her mouth before sliding back out again with a resonating pop.

The older woman looked taken aback. Her long lashes fluttered as though she were in a lounge, about to belt out the suave lyrics of a jazz song. But while her sensual features oozed with magnetic sex appeal, her elegant long fingers were clenched into two tight fists.

“See you never," Harley shouted over her shoulder as she rushed up the stairs, sincerely believing they would never meet again.

But, of course, she was wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Miss, you dropped this!


	3. The Perfect Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *TW: Light non-consensual voyeurism

The walls of the apartment would get painted with joy whenever madame Prince would be home. The beautiful woman always come back from her business trips with treats and gifts. She covered her daughter and girlfriend with material goods to makeup for the time they spent apart. She was warm in a way that Madame Kyle was not. Her laugh was loud, her smile was bright, and her hugs were the most safe and welcoming embraces Harley had ever received.

The young au pair felt privileged to witness and experience such warmth. Her father might have been present in body, but he had not been very present in mind. Her mother had never been a model of affection. She was not much of a model at all, but Harley loved her deeply.

"And here is yours," Madame Prince smiled brightly at her and extended a perfectly wrapped gift to Harley.

The au pair’s heart skipped a beat. Tears welled up her eyes. She had been feeling so forlornly in the past few weeks that this simple act of kindness felt overwhelmingly powerful. Her fingers lingered on the wrapping paper for a bit before she raised her head to look into the businesswoman’s soft brown eyes.

"Thank you, Madame Prince," she squealed. She kept on tugging at the bow of her gift bout out of excitement and anxiety. "This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Harley, I have told you many times to call me Diana," the businesswoman replied, putting one of her hands on the younger woman’s shoulder and giving it a light squeeze. "And it’s completely normal. You are part of our family. "

Harley remained frozen under the stare of three set of eyes. She usually enjoyed being the center of the attention, but there was something about this situation that made her stomach with discomfort.

"You know, you are allowed to open it," stated Persephone with bluntness.

The little girl stood by her mother with her back stiff and her arms crossed over her chest. Her long hair had been braided to the side of her head by madame Kyle. She looked prime and proper.

Harley opened the package to find a second-hand leather jacket that had been modified to look up to date with more recent fashion. She flipped it around. On the back had been painted a gorgeous Frida portrait.

"It’s so beautiful!" Harley squealed. She squished against her chest, hugging it tightly.

"I found this while I was strolling through a flea market when I saw this little stand of second-hand clothing with all of these unique art pieces." Madame Prince- Well, Diana- shared an excited glance with her partner. Madame Kyle gave her a soft and surprisingly tender smile. "I knew I had to get you one."

The dinner that followed was very animated. Diana shared her travel stories under the fascinated gaze of her daughter. She explained how she got lost on her way to the hotel on her second day there and her clumsy attempt at asking direction. She talked about the colourful clothes people wore in the subway. She then described to her lover her favourite art pieces in the KW Institute of Contemporary Art. She was not the most knowledgeable art amateur, but it always gave her great pleasure to witness her partner’s bright smile when she shared such tales.

Once she was done, madame Kyle described the new art pieces she had acquired for her soon to be held fall exhibition at her small art gallery in Montmartre. Her partner drank every word that came out of her mouth with loving adoration. Halfway through the dinner she reached for her hand and held it against the table. Harley was not used to such displays of affection. She let her gaze linger there for longer than polite, transfixed by the picture in front of her.

Persephone followed suite with her academic successes. She shared her trials with a few of her peers. The young girl might have been academically strong, but she was not a social butterfly. She often spent her recesses alone with a book. It was not something that she minded, but it sometimes made her group assignments a little difficult.

Harley witnessed the whole thing in silence, mainly because it still required a lot of focus for her to follow a conversation it French. Part of her felt as though she did not belong in an environment so loving and warm.

"What about you Harley?" Diana asked, turning her bright smile toward her. "How are your French lessons going? Have you visited the Louvre yet? Did you make new friends?"

Harley lowered down the glass wine she was holding and cleared her throat. She pulled one of her braids and twisted it around her index.

"Mes leçons de français aller bien. J’apprends beaucoup de nouveaux choses."

Harley knew she made grammar mistakes by the way the two older women exchanged a glance, Diana’s smile of endearment, and madame Kyle’s smirk. She felt her cheeks heat up and she resumed answering her employer’s questions in English.

"I didn’t visit the Louvre yet, but it’s at the top of my list. I met other au pair girls in my French class. We met up at cafes a few times. They are nice."

"I am glad you’re settling in so well," madame Kyle stated. She got up ran her fingers along her partner’s shoulders. "I hope you’re still hungry because I got a platter of your favourite cheeses."

"You’re so good to me." Diana reached behind her to grab lover’s hand. She brought it up to her cheek and turned to the side to press a gentle kiss against her fingers. "What did I ever do to deserve you?"

Later that night when Harley laid down in her single bed, her thoughts kept on going back to the dinner. Her heart was racing, her stomach was churning. She kept on twisting and turning in her bed. She would sometimes sit up to sneak glances at her leather jacket lying on a small chair. Everything about that evening reminded her of the life she never had. It was overwhelming, anxiety inducing, and a tad too much for her to handle.

After a few hours of foolishly staring at the ceiling, Harley growled and kicked her cover off of her naked form. She stumbled out of her bed. The moonlight was streaming through the window. The streets of Paris we close to quiet. A few low souls were rushing through their homes after a late night out. A car would pass by from time to time. It felt peaceful to watch them carry on with their life from an outsider point of view. In Paris, Harley was no one, but she could also be whomever she wanted.

A small noise interrupted the silence that had settled over the apartment for the night.

Harley jumped out of her body and brought her hand to her racing heart. She quickly grabbed a pair of shorts and a sport bra and slowly crept her way through the apartment’s long hallway. She could feel her pulse racing and the adrenaline rushing through her veins. The young au pair had grown up in a small apartment in a rough neighborhood and she was used to break ins. It was safe to say she knew how to defend herself well enough to handle a burglar. As she got closer to the sounds, a strange feeling started to form in her heart. The noise she was starting to discern were not crime related. 

They were moans.

The blonde froze in place. She was unsure how to react. She knew the sensible thing to do would have been to go back to her bedroom, but something about those noises were pulling her in. A burning sensation was growing in the pit of her stomach. She could hear her breath becoming shallow. Her hands were shaking uncontrollably, both from the sensation of coming down from the adrenaline rush and from growing arousal.

She bit her lip took a few steps forward. The sounds were increasing in pace and in volume.

When she got to the living room, she could barely make out their forms. Lying down in all her naked glory was madame Kyle. Her hand was digging into the armrest of the couch. On top of her, the shadow of Diana was undulating at rhythmic pace. Their conjoint bodies both moving with animalistic fury and surprising grace.

Harley smacked her hand of her mouth, hushing up the shocked gasp threatening to spill out of it. Guilt and shame washed over her almost immediately. She turned around and rushed back to her room. Once she closes the door to her bedroom, she pressed her back against it. It took a while for her breathing patter to settle back to normal and for her tense muscles to relax.

She took once last deep breath before settling back in her bed and closed her eyes, desperately trying to sleep it off.


	4. Chapter 4

Harley woke up to the sound of Persephone’s laughter. The young girl was giggling breathlessly. The reverberation of her footsteps was echoed by the ones of her mother.

"Je vais t’attraper!" Diana’s voice slipped under Harley’s bedroom door.

"Non, non, non!" Persephone squealed, her pace turning more frantic.

The young au pair smiled and glanced out the window, pulling her cover against her chest. The sun was shining over the streets of Paris. Sometimes it felt like it always was.

The muscles of her stomach clenched as images from the previous night came rushing back to her mind. Mme Kyle, eyes closed, her lips parted in a perfect "O", completely abandoned to lust. Diana, straddling her, muscles clenched, luscious curves in full display. Harley bit down on her bottom lip. She had never seen nor even imagined women together. It was not a concept that made her uncomfortable, as a matter of fact, she had even kissed a few other women at parties. It was simply just something she had never really taken the time to think about.

The forbidden excited her- that she knew, and she felt embarrassingly aroused by the situation. She grabbed her phone. She had a snapchat message from "abs guy".

Perfect timing, she thought.

She pulled her tank top up and took a picture of her breasts.

 _Dick pic?_ , she wrote over her picture before pressing sent.

The response was almost immediate and pretty satisfying. Harley smirked. Her hand skimming the waistband of her shorts.

"Non! Diana!" Mme Kyle’s voice got thrown into the mix. "Ne me mêle pas à ça!"

Harley jumped, a feeling of guilt washing over her.

She swung her arms over her head and stretched out. She jumped out of bed and made her way toward the door, curious to find out what the commotion was about.

She opened the door to find Mme Kyle leaping across the hallway with the practiced grace of a dancer. Their eyes met and Harley felt her heart sink into her stomach as thoughts of her in the throws of intimacy came rushing back again. The sound of her employer’s moans had been low and throaty. It was the only thing the au pair could think of as piercing green eyes searched her own set of baby blue.

"Selina," Diana chuckled amorously, her full lips brushing against her partner’s ear as both of her strong arms wrapped around her waist. "Tu ne peux pas m’échapper."

Mme Kyle rolled her eyes but melted into her embrace. The au pair scratched the back of her neck, feeling uneasy. She couldn’t help but wonder if one of her employers had seen her the night before.

"Harley!" Persephone shouted, her head peaking from behind the couple. She was wearing a face splitting grin instead of her usual serious frown. "Run or I'll catch you!"

The young girl sprinted toward her. Harley’s eyes grew wide. She twirled on herself and scampered down the hallway, dodging Persephone’s swift attempt to catch her.

"Persephone!" Mme Kyle called after her, sounding a bit exasperated. "Leave Harley alone. It’s her day off!"

"It’s alright!" Harley replied, easily avoiding Persephone’s extended arms. She wasn’t particularly in the mood for tag, but there was a part of her that felt as though she had to pay for her sin.

Diana and her daughter made crêpes for breakfast. Mme Kyle chose to give them space and settled on the table outside to read her daily newspaper. Harley went back to her bedroom to change out of her pyjama. She had plans to meet up with another au pair that day, an overly enthusiastic all-American girl named Kara Danvers. They were going to take a stroll in the streets of Montmartre and possibly pose for pictures for their instagram accounts.

It was going to be a great day.

"Harley, I’ve been meaning to tell you…" Mme Kyle announced between two bites of crêpes a little later on. "One of my friends will be staying with us for a while."

Persephone sneaked a glance at her mother whom, in return, gave her a warning look.

"That sounds great!" Harley replied with large smile, but there was a tension in the air that told her it was not.

Mme Kyle did not seem to mind. She had already brought her cappuccino back to her lips and was taking a sip of it as though oblivious to it. Meanwhile, Diana and her daughter were holding a silent conversation across the table.

"No, it’s not." Persephone’s features were scrunched into a scowl. "She’s a bit-"

"Watch your language!" Diana glared at her daughter.

"Non, mais c’est vrai, maman!" The young girl insisted, her nostrils flaring and her cheeks turning scarlet. She slammed her fist against the table. "Pamela est une vraie conasse! Tu ne vas pas me dire que tu la trouves sympathique! De toute façon, toi, tu t’en fous, ce n’est pas comme si tu allais être présente. Tu ne l’es jamais!"

"Persephone, on ne parle pas comme cela à sa mère! Ce n’est pas comme cela que je t’ai élevé." Diana got up and circled the table. Her high heels stomped across the hardwood floor. She stopped in front of her daughter and crossed her arms over her chest. "File dans ta chambre!"

The little girl jumped on her feet and looked up at her mother with defiance. They stared at one another for long seconds. Persephone growled with annoyance. She bolted out of the room without sparing a second glance to her mother.

"I am sorry about that," Diana told Harley once her daughter was out of the room. She lowered one of her hands on the blonde’s shoulder, giving it a light affectionate tap. "She is not usually like that."

"I know," the au pair replied.

She hadn’t been able to fully understand the conversation. They had both been speaking really fast. She gathered from their interaction that Persephone had been sent to her room and that she was not a fan of Mme Kyle’s friend.

"Je suis vraiment désolée, Selina." Diana walked back to her chair and took a seat, looking regal and proud despite her apologetic tone of voice.

Mme Kyle chased away with nonchalance the curl that had fallen over her forehead. She shrugged, her lips curling into a teasing smirk.

"To be fair, she is right." The short haired brunette’s eyebrow curled into a perfect arch. "Pamela is a real bitch."

Diana looked taken aback for a few seconds. Mme Kyle’s smile grew larger.

They both exploded into laughter.

"She really is," Diana stated once she had recovered. She wiped a tear in the corner of her eye. "I know she is your friend, but she is awful."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I am going to catch you
> 
> *No, no, no!
> 
> *Don't involve me in this
> 
> *Selina, you can't escape me!
> 
> *No, but, mom, it's true! Pamela is a real bitch. I know you don't like her. Anyway, why would you care? It's not like you are going to be there. You are never there!
> 
> *Persephone! That is not a way to speak to your mother. That is not how I raised you. Go to your room!
> 
> *I am sorry


	5. Chapter 5

"Oh, wow!"

Kara’s sense of wonder seemed to be almost childlike, Harley noticed.

After spending a few hours with the other au pair, Harley had determined that she must have been raised in a very sheltered environment. Everything she experienced seemed to elicit an exclamation of surprised joy.

Kara was beautiful in a girl next door type of way. Her long gold locks were blandly tied up in a high ponytail. Her bright blue eyes were framed by black glasses. The clothes she wore were simple, proper, and suited her without making her particularly stand out in a crowd. Her sense of style was polar opposite to Harley’s whose fashion choices attracted both appreciative and shocked glances.

They both like food to an extant that bordering on obsessive, a passion Harley was grateful they shared. They had stopped to grab pastries on their way to Montmartre. They had planned to stop in a scenic spot to eat a few bites, but both of them had finished polishing their snacks before the end of their metro ride.

Montmartre was a beautiful neighborhood that seemed to be mainly composed of flights of stairs and quaint little streets adorned with charming boutiques and tourist traps. Kara had been marvelling at every single sight, pointing at every tour Eiffel sculpture and tacky key chain as though they were art pieces.

They stopped at a café in the late afternoon and ordered cappuccinos. They watched passersby trying to discern tourist from locals and exchanged a few banalities. Kara talked about her friends and family back home with longing. Harley hardly listened, lost in her own thoughts.

"Have you ever been with a woman?" Harley blurted out after a while, interrupting the other woman.

Kara blinked a few times. Her eyebrows flew high and her eyes grew wide. It was clear that she hadn’t expected to be asked such a question.

"My au pair parents are queer," Harley added as an explanation.

"Oh," Kara giggled, pushing her glasses up her nose. "For a moment, I thought you were going to come out to me. Uhm, no, I can’t say that I have, not that the thought never crossed my mind. My sister is gay- you know, so I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about the whole thing. Have you?"

Harley’s head bobbed up in down as she listened to the other blonde ramble. She had been thinking about her employers having sex all day. It was eating her up. She felt guilt for watching them without their knowledge, but she was also somewhat intrigued. She could barely focus on anything else. She had wondered more than once if Kara could read her thoughts and see the lustful images crossing her mind from time to time.

"Nope!" Harley replied.

"Dooo you want to?" Kara asked, drumming her fingers against the table. "Is that what’s on your mind?"

Harley shrugged. The truth was she had no idea what she wanted most of the time. Her mother-when she was not busy drinking to death- often scolded her lack of focus. She was a little all over the place.

"I dunno."

"It’s okay, you don’t have to know." Kara smiled empathically and reached for Harley’s hand, giving it a light squeeze. "But, either way, if you ever want to talk about it some more, I’m here for you."

The rest of their day was eventless. They took many pictures and shared lots of laughter. After a day of running around Paris with Kara, Harley had reached the conclusion that she was not unpleasant. She was sort of fun for a goody-two shoes.

She reached her au pair family’s apartment in the late evening. She was exhausted from a full day of being out. Her legs were sore. She dragged her feet up the stairs, her purse bumping against her hip. She opened the door as quietly as she could. The apartment was as dark as night. The stillness of the room let Harley to believe that the family was already sleeping. She slipped out of her shoes and walked toward her room, making her way down the hallway.

She noted the presence a floral scent breezing through the corridor, unexpected yet oddly familiar. She could not put her finger on it, but there was something about the scent brought her on edge. She was quick to notice that a soft light was streaming through the slant under the door of the guest room that was situated at the far end of the apartment, facing her own. She paused when she reached it, leaving her hand to linger on the doorknob of her bedroom. Her curiosity getting the best of her, she listened to the discreet shuffling on the other side of the door.

She tried to imagine to whom could belong this sweet scent of flowers. She imagined Mme Kyle’s friend to be worldly like her. She was likely to be rich and to dress well. She must have had refined taste and to be gorgeous, anyone or anything in Mme Kyle’s surrounding seemed to be of an out-of-this world beauty.

She dropped her hand to her side. She took a few steps forward and pressed her ear against the door. Silence had fell over the room. She could no longer hear the woman moving. Harley bit on her bottom lip and switched her weight from one leg to the other. She closed her eyes with fear when she heard the floor creak under her feet.

She wrapped her arms around herself and gripped her waist with both of her hands, waiting for the storm she was certain would follow. Harley had been surrounded by people with explosive temper since the day she was born. Unpredictability was what she expected from others. She heard footsteps crossing the bedroom, slowly approaching the door. Part of her thought it would be easy to flee, to hide behind the door of her own room, but she remained frozen in place; her eyes set on the doorknob of the guest room.

"You!" was the word that fell out of the unforgettable luscious red lips of her au pair family’s guest.

Pamela-Harley now knew the insufferable woman’s name- stood in front of her in a loosely tied green silk peignoir. The clothing item did not leave much to the imagination. Her long and surprisingly well-sculpted legs were in full display. The collar of her robe hung low, exposing to eye the round curves of her smooth white breasts. Red curls fell down her back like rivers of fire. Even without her heels she was tall, imposingly so. Her emerald eyes were firmly set on her, but the fiery passion that had animated them during their last encounter was extinguished, replaced by a cold calculating stare.

Harley was being sized up.

"Why do you look so terrified?" Pamela’s sing song voice held no concern nor disgust. Her face was expressionless, but her gaze was inquisitive. She seemed to be merely stating an observable fact.

"I am not terrified!" Harley huffed, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Mhm, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night, peanut."

Pamela propped herself against the doorframe, her left hip jutting out. She didn’t seem to be done gauging Harley. They stared each other down without exchanging a word for what seemed like long minutes.

Harley, always uncomfortable in stillness, was the first to break the silence.

"Okay, that was fun," she said with a shrug, attempting to look nonchalant. She twirled around and tried to reach for her bedroom door, but she had not taken a step that she was stopped by a firm hand wrapping around her wrist.

Pamela flipped her back around and pulled her forward. Harley gasped with surprise, stumbling on her feet. The woman’s unnervingly unreadable forest green eyes plunged deep into hers.

"I was not done with you," she said, her lips pressing into a thin line. "Why were you so terrified?"

Harley felt the grip on her wrist loosen a little. Long fingers sprawled across her skin, providing warmth and comfort. She knew the gesture was not likely to be kind, but she often desperately craved physical contact. It was not something she was familiar body with and her responded with hyperawareness whenever it occurred.

She looked down at the hand holding her wrist. Pamela’s fingers, at first glance, were akin to the ones of a pianist, long and elegant, but Harley could feel callouses on her palms. It seemed so out of place for someone this sophisticated. Even more surprising was the choice of nail polish colour coating her manicured nails. It was a rich shade of forest green. The colour of pine tree needles, Harley settled on.

"I’m just a little jumpy," Harley replied with a giggle, taking back her hand and putting some distance between them.

"Learn not to let small things scare you," Pamela said, pushing herself off the doorframe and taking a hold of her door. "Unless you want to live your life as a doormat."

The red-haired woman turned around and shut her door close, putting an end to their awkward exchange.


	6. Chapter 6

_Hey…_

Harley almost forgot about the strange man she met a café until her phone chimed on a week evening, interrupting her movie. The young au pair growled as a glaring light emanating from her screen illuminated her room. She glanced down at her messages.

_It’s me, Jack. The handsome artist you fell in love with at the café._

She could hear Pamela pitter padding in the hallway, her feet barely grazing the ground. Harley has listened to her brush her teeth in the adjacent washroom, lowering the sound of her movie to be certain not to miss every time she opened the faucet or cleared her throat. She felt bordering on stalkerish in her obsession with hating the other woman, yet she made sure to avoid her as much as she could.

"Harley?"

There was a knock on the door, sharp and confident.

Harley jumped.

"Yes?" She replied, not bothering to get up from her bed. "What is it?"

"I was wondering if you had a phone charger I could borrow. I can’t seem to find mine."

It was Harley. She was the one who had hidden Pamela’s charger.

That morning, when Harley had realized that she was alone in the apartment, she had walked into the guest bedroom armed with pettiness. She had run her head over the bedding. The bed had been perfectly made unlike hers. The light scent of the guest’s flora perfume had been lingering on her pillows. Harley had taken the time to breath it in, fully memorizing the odor of her nemesis and absolutely hating the fact that she smelled so good.

She had opened the closet and had let her hand linger over the fabric of Pamela’s clothes. Each and everyone of them had seemed of a quality the au pair could never afford. It had left Harley feeling bitter and resentful.

She had found a little notebook laying on a small desk. It had been filled with notes, scientific gibberish that hadn’t spiked Harley’s interest. She had gathered from it that Pamela was much brighter than she had first assumed or that, at the very least, she held knowledge that the young women had had yet to acquire.

There hadn’t been any personal item in sight, nothing very telling. It had frustrated Harley that the only fact she had been able to deduce deduce from exploring the other woman’s bedroom was that she must have had a good sense of structure and organisation.

That was when she had had the idea. Spotting the guest’s charger by the nightstand, she had taken a hold of it and had run out of the room, scared to be caught in the act. It had taken her a few seconds to find a spot for it in the middle of the living room, underneath a couch cushion.

But now, as the subject of her hatred stood behind her door, the young woman deeply regretted her previous decision.

"Uhm, let me check," she mumbled, pushing her laptop off from her laps. She pushed her blanket off and dropped her feet to the floor, rubbing them together. She grabbed the pair of socks she was wearing earlier and started pulling them on.

"Harley?" came Pamela’s voice, this time sounding more impatient. "May I come in?"

The frustrating red haired she-demon pushed the door open without waiting for an answer. Her eyes quickly found Harley in a crouched position, her hands still pulling at one of her socks. The blonde growled at the ridicule of her position.

Pamela was in her peignoir again. Her head was cocked to the side, her hair, tied up in a ponytail was swaying by her waist in a wild mass of curls. A pair of glasses was pressed against her nose. It made her look like a professor in the middle of her research instead of the awful model-like creature Harley had grown used to meet in the hallway.

She was staring down at Harley with an undecipherable look.

The au pair was always extremely self-conscious under the other woman’s piercing gaze. She could feel heat rise up her cheeks and a strange feeling settling in the pit of her stomach.

"Ever heard of privacy, lady?" She asked.

Pamela’s pouty lips curled with displeasure. She crossed her arms over chest and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly. There was something about the way she moved that felt undeniably feminine, powerfully so, as though she had popped out of the screen of an old Hollywood movie. As she stood there, towering over the young au pair with her frustratingly overpowering height, her long legs stretching for what seemed forever over the blonde’s head, Harley felt an overwhelming feeling take over her senses. It was something akin to rage, energy flowing through her blood like a jack in a box ready to squeeze out. It was tickling at her skin, making her heart fast, and her mind go dizzy. It was-

It was-

"So do you have an extra charger or not?" Pamela asked this time lowering down to Harley’s position. She pressed one of her hands against the blonde’s cheek like would if they were cajoling a child. Her face drew near, her doll-like feature looking oddly dangerous.

Harley gulped, a feeling of embarrassment washing over her as she thought of the charger hiding inside the couch. She felt Pamela’s thumb brush against the underside of her jaw, her hand now almost clasping the young woman’s face.

"I just have mine," Harley whispered breathlessly.

"Mhm, okay, I’ll just borrow it for an hour or two. I’ll bring it back before you go to sleep."

Pamela uncurled from her bent position and scanned the room, quickly finding the prized object. She stretched out over Harley’s bed, one of her knees propping itself against the mattress and grabbed the item. Her eyes lingered on the phone. The blonde was too slow to realize that new messages had come in during their brief interaction, probably all from-

"A certain Jack is inviting you to see a movie tomorrow," Pamela’s sing song voice breezing through the air with the grace of a ballerina. The redhead turned to lurk at her, still half bent out over Harley’s bed, her long fire red curls tickling the au pair’s pillow. Her lips curled into a mocking smile. "Seems like an opportunity you shouldn’t pass up!"

The red-haired woman straightened up and ran one of her hands through her thick mane of her hair, the strange smile dancing on her lips a tad disconcerting. She walked out the room with pressing steps, her feet gliding with delicateness over the wooden floor.

Harley groaned once the other woman had closed the door behind herself. She picked her phone, sending Jack a reply.

_Yes._

She closed her phone.

Yes to anything that could distract her from her frustrating new living situation.

**Author's Note:**

> Translation.
> 
> *Pamela, I was just thinking about you. I went to a play yesterday and I am sure you would have loved it.  
> *You know Diana. She is in Berlin. She should be back in two days.  
> *Tell me everything. Don’t spare me the details.  
> *I am Persephone’s Au pair. I came to get…  
> *What?  
> *My mother is in Berlin. This girl is my Au Pair. She is going to drive me home.


End file.
